Everlasting
by feliciohno
Summary: Arthur doesn't know how to cope with his new life, but can this sudden stranger fix that?


**_This is an AU (alternate universe) based in France, between Matthew, Arthur, Alfred, and Francis. I do not own Hetalia, nor any of the characters/places involved in "Everlasting."_**

**_Prologue:_**

Arthur knew it could never be the same. He stood there, head hung low, at his lover's funeral. No final goodbyes could express the pain of losing Francis. Those soft, blonde curls now hung limp over the paled skin. If Arthur looked only for a moment, it would seem his love was only sleeping. The once radiant shine of a personality was now docile, only memories of what it once was. Every kiss, every touch, every feeling of being close to this man seemed to be so far away. Arthur did not think he could love again.

The moment his phone rang bringing the news of the fatal car crash was the ultimate damage. His world fell apart. The firefighters said that he managed to crawl out of the car and pass on, before it caught fire. They said it "probably" wasn't too painful. Was this supposed to relieve Arthur's pain? Quite the opposite, as it left horrid images of fires and blood swimming through his mind.

It seemed as though the sky reflected his emotions. Grey and gloomy. Hours stretched on and on; it even began to rain. Arthur was the only one who remained after the body was lowered into the cold earth, for good. His knees were shaky and his lip quivered. Tears stung his eyes as they began falling down his cheeks. He wanted to scream, to cry out in pain. Most of all, he wanted Francis back. Rain pelted Arthur as he sank to his knees and fell on top of the mound of dirt, crying harshly into the soil.

"Francis! If I could have had more time with you... How wonderful it would have been." He sniffled. "D-do you remember, when you proposed? On the Eiffel Tower? Remember how... how even the birds and the animals seemed to cheer for us? Please, wait for me... please." Arthur choked, his throat sore and dry.

"Promise me, you'll be the one to meet me when my time comes, Francis. You said we'd never be split apart. I expect you to keep that promise. Don't fail me!... Please.."

He could not bring himself to sit up, so he lay there crying and trying to control his raging emotions. Neither did he notice the strange boy, who would change his life, approach him. A small voice came from behind Arthur.

"Mister? Are you okay?"

_**Chapter one:** _

Three days had passed since Francis' funeral. Arthur now sat alone in their, no, his apartment. The dining table felt wrong without a beautiful man on the other end, smiling at him and eating breakfast. His food was bland, and he rarely slept. Sometimes, he had to force himself to even move away from the window that overlooked the scenery of France. Everything seemed to lose its beauty. What he once thought was some of the most beautiful architectural structures, were now no more than reminders of the times he'd been there with his lover.

He thought back to the funeral, and the boy who approached him. Admittedly, he was shocked by the question. Did he seem okay? Was crying on your lost love's grave a norm here? Arthur did not know, but the boy struck him as odd. His eyes were the same rich blue as Francis', he even had the golden locks, only shorter. He wore glasses and baggy clothing, and had a touch of a French accent. What had his name been?

Matthew.

Matthew had picked Arthur up and carried him to a nearby building to get him out of the rain. The two remained silent for a while until Matthew asked what he was doing here. So, Arthur began the painful explanation, but this time he did not cry. It was as if he had no tears left. Matthew offered to walk him home, and Arthur accepted.

"I want to help you get through your pain, Arthur. You seem like a bit of a, how do I say this nicely,... A Loner. And everybody needs someone they can rely on. I know, for you, that was Francis, but he's gone now. I just want to help."

What was with this kid? It seemed he couldn't mind his own business, and he was certainly not giving up. Matthew had said he would call in a few days, and they would walk around and generally try to cheer Arthur up. Would it work? He certainly hoped so. If there was one thing he hated the most, it was feeling like he was weak. Constantly slumping around in self-pity would not get anything accomplished.

Things would be different. One day, Francis and Arthur would be united again. Until that time, Arthur was sure Francis would be watching over him, and would be wanting Arthur to make the best of his time here. In honor of their shortened love, he would do that. No more sadness, no more pain. Francis wouldn't want that for Arthur, right?

He would start with a shower, clearing his mind in the process. Cold tiles made him shiver as he turned on the water. He always enjoyed rather hot showers. His muscles relaxed under the rhythm of the water falling and the heat. Steam built up, and he closed his eyes. Memories came flooding in, the first time they showered together. How Francis had tenderly cleaned Arthur's skin and washed his hair, as if he were a precious item that could only be handled delicately.

These were the good memories, the ones that needed to be remembered. He still wore his ring, which was silver, and words laced around the band. "Je t'aimerai toujours." I will always love you. Francis was buried with his, which said the same thing in English. They had gotten the rings only two months after meeting, but in their hearts they knew. Arthur and Francis were soul mates. Not even Death himself could change that.

With a heavy sigh, he finished his shower, and stepped out. He grabbed for his towel and wrapped it around his slender body before walking out to his bedroom. Everything remained the same. Francis' side of the bed was still messy from the morning before his death. His scent lingered on the untouched clothing in their closet, and their pictures were still placed all over. One picture in particular was easily spotted. In the frame stood Arthur and Francis in a loving embrace, excitement clear on their faces. The Eiffel Tower loomed behind them. It was the moment they got engaged. He picked up the picture and kissed Francis' face gently, setting it back down slowly. He threw on a striped shirt, probably Francis', and jeans. As he was putting on his shoes, his phone rang. He picked it up and wasn't surprised to hear Matthew on the other line, saying he'd be here for Arthur in a few minutes.

Arthur ran to the kitchen and began to attempt to cook eggs. They came out okay, burned around the edges, but still edible. Quickly, he shoveled them into his mouth and slipped his shoes on just as the doorbell rang.

Matthew stood in the doorway, leaning to one side, with a small smile on his face. His hair was brushed back and his glasses were crooked. The blue of his eyes were greatly illuminated by the red plaid shirt and dark jeans. He held out his hand and Arthur shook it before grabbing his coat and throwing it over his shoulder.

The two men began to walk down the street in a slow pace. Arthur wondered where they could be going, so he decided to ask.

"Excuse me, Matthew. Where are we going today?"

The tone in Matthew's voice seemed apprehensive, but at the same time strong and sure. "We're going to go the the Eiffel Tower. Right to the top. People say that important places tend to have ties to people, even deceased. I want you to go up there and begin talking, as if you were with Francis. Is that too much?"

Arthur's walking came to a halt as he looked at the blonde boy. Why would he make him do something so painful? Arthur was just starting to feel less down, but this really shocked him. He honestly didn't believe he could go up there and manage to speak without crying like a little baby. He would give anything to have Francis here telling him everything was alright, and that it was going to be okay. But he could not do that.

"Arthur? Your eyes are watering."

Arthur looked to the ground and wiped at his eyes. When he spoke, his voice cracked. That had always made him angry, but Francis loved it. "Y-yes. I'm fine. It's just... rather insane that you would make me do that so suddenly. I don't think I can, Matthew. I'm not strong enough. Honestly, I would rather not face reality than have to go up there, where we got engaged, and start speaking about how I'm feeling right now. Besides, I'm not even sure how I feel. All I can sense is anger and sadness and regret, but there's more. I can tell. I just can't put it into words."

Matthew nodded, but pressed on. "Listen Arthur, I think if you do this, it'll be a major stepping stone for overcoming the pain. Just try it, okay? I'll be right there with you."

Anger rose in Arthur. "I barely know you!"

"You trust me enough to be here now, do you not? If you really felt you couldn't do this, you wouldn't have even left your house. But you did. You want to feel happy, and let go of the pain. The only way to do that is to accept it. Francis is dead. He's not coming back."

Words couldn't even be formed. Matthew's statement was so intense, Arthur stood there dumbfounded, unsure of what to say or do.

"Arthur... I didn't mean to say that. It was a bit too harsh. Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry..."

He hadn't even noticed the tears falling down his cheeks. Just when he thought he'd cried every last tear, more had come. Why was this happening to him? Why, out of the billions of people on this planet, had his lover died? Fate was a cruel woman. Every fiber of his being seemed to seethe with anger, at himself, at fate, and at Matthew.

"P-please... Matthew, just leave me alone for today. I promise we can try again some other time, but now is too soon. I can't deal with this. Maybe... Maybe next week. Please."

"No, you have to do it now. If you stretch it out, it'll only get worse. Dealing with pain sooner is better. Now come on."

Arthur bit his lip while thinking of what to say, but suddenly Matthew rushed next to him, linking his arm through Arthur's and pulled him along towards the tower. However, Arthur would not just let himself be dragged around by an almost stranger. He pulled Matthew to a stop, much to the boy's surprise, and looked at him.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur looked into his eyes, and was shocked to see anger and sadness, even empathy. "...Matthew, have you lost someone as well?"

Matthew's eyes widened and he looked away. "Tch..."

"Please tell me, Matthew, so that I might understand better."

"I.." Matthew couldn't bring himself to say it. He thought he had finally gotten over it, but he was wrong.

"Was it a friend?" Matthew shook his head. "A family member? Perhaps your broth-"

Matthew fell to his knees, right in the open, and held his hands over his face as he remembered. His brother had died several years back. He was fighting in a war. Matthew still remembered the day that Alfred's officer knocked on their door, face grim, slowly telling their mom how he had served well and died honorably. Several bullets through the chest didn't seem "honorable" to Matthew. He gathered the strength to stand and looked at Arthur.

"I lost my brother to war. The reason I want to help you is because Alfred always talked about this man who had changed his life. He always said that if it hadn't been for that man, he wouldn't have lived through his first time in a battlefield. Did Francis ever tell you he lived in America and served in the army?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well, Alfred met Francis when they were on the war-front. Being distracted lead to Alfred taking a bullet to the shoulder. So, Francis picked him up and carried him three miles back to the infirmary, all while running the risk of being bombed or shot at any moment. Since that time, Alfred had always respected Francis. A few years later, Alfred was saddened to hear that Francis had retired the army and moved here, but he was also happy for him. Alfred did not retire, he became a Cadet, but was shot down one day. This is why I wanted to help you, because your lover helped our entire family, and he didn't even need to do that. So please, Arthur, let me help you. For My brother's sake, and for Francis."

Arthur was speechless. Matthew reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, wrinkled photo. In the photo were two boys in military uniforms hugging each other and looking overjoyed. He almost did not recognize Francis with shorter hair, but it was him. His blue eyes as shiny as ever. He assumed the boy next to Francis was Alfred, who had a striking resemblance to Matthew.

Arthur did not say anything else. He just approached Matthew and wrapped his arms around the boy, crying softly into his shirt.

"...Please. Help me, Matthew."


End file.
